In darklit death, the strong pyramid heart
knows something of the source, the maze of blood,
the deeper fountains and dance of certain colors.
Something was founded at the base of the heart,
it cannot find it now, but the blood's pilgrimage
carries its relics and sacred banners
far from the mountaintop to the beating valves of the sea.
It cannot clench.
There was a song, and the tomb of song.
There was love, but it all escapes. What love? For whom?
The wounds :
Touch me !
Speak to me !
Love me !